


How Lemon Breeland Found the Groove (She Never Knew She Lost)

by turnonmyheels



Category: Hart of Dixie
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:01:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnonmyheels/pseuds/turnonmyheels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season two fic set before the Mayor Election.   Lemon takes a long look at her life and doesn't like what she sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Lemon Breeland Found the Groove (She Never Knew She Lost)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



> Thank you LdThomps and Thistle90 for the *wonderful* betas. Thank you mods for running this ficathon once again, already looking forward to next year!

A lifetime ago, when Lemon realized her mother was never coming back, her entire world view shifted. Some people would have grieved over the loss and gone to therapy, others would have rebelled and lashed out at the world, still others would have thought it was the Lord’s will and accepted it as their fate. Not Lemon. 

Lemon realized her mother was never coming back, so she transformed herself into the woman she had wanted her mother to be. She left behind fun, pranks, and foolishness and turned herself into the consummate Miss Bluebell. Everything from her Mrs. degree to her vintage 1950s wardrobe and accessories was Lemon painstakingly transforming herself into the idealization of someone who had apparently never existed.

The problem in this was that Lemon had never wanted to be the woman she’d wanted her mother to be. She’d wanted to be herself, but between running every committee in town, raising her sister, and parenting her father, she forgot who that Lemon was. That Lemon -- the one that George had wanted to marry, the one Wade told stories about, the one she desperately wanted to be again -- would have never been left at the altar by anyone.. 

That Lemon would have had a career of her own by the time she was thirty. She would have been at the top of her field (whatever it was), admired by her colleagues, and loved by her friends and family and everyone who ever met her, ever - everyone but Ruby Jeffries of the ruby lips and devastating cheek bones. That Lemon would had everything she wanted except for Ruby’s attention, and apparently her Mother’s love.

That Lemon would never have come to Zoe Hart in the middle of the night, afraid she was dying from a heart attack, because that Lemon would have never been so afraid of her dreams slipping through her fingers that she worked herself into panic attack.

That Lemon’s heart would have raced when Zoe took her pulse for reasons entirely unrelated to panic. (That Lemon still wanted to see if Ruby Jeffries’ ruby lips tasted as good as they looked. They looked tastier now that she was always wearing the custom shade of lipstick she created for herself and never allowed her cosmetics company to sell.) That Lemon hated Zoe Hart for how badly she wanted to kiss her as much as she hated her for capturing George’s attention, for being friends with Lavon, and being successful. 

This Lemon, the one who didn’t want to take the medicine Zoe was prescribing, this Lemon had to go. And somehow, the Lemon whose entire life was in shambles was going to have to find a way to be who she was always supposed to be: a woman who could stand on her own two feet and support herself without having to rely on anyone, a woman who was happy and knew her place in the world and worked hard to make the world a better place for the people of her community, a woman who wasn’t afraid to love who she loved whether they were her childhood sweetheart, high school rival, the mayor, or the completely ridiculous doctor from New York.

Walking out of Zoe’s house to find the entire town had turned out to see if she’d lost her mind and murdered Zoe, Lemon discovered that she was relieved she’d taken the Valium. It almost took the sting out of the humiliation.

Almost.

Zoe’s hand pressed against the small of her back where no one else could see it took care of everything else. Lemon forced herself to smile and act as nonchalant as one could act when their face was streaked with tears and their nose was running. This new strange Lemon needed to work on her dignity, so she fumbled for Zoe’s hand until she found it, then she gave it a squeeze and said thank you before she took herself home. Lemon walked straight and proud; head held high against the town speculation (town spectacle).

* * *

“I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I’m not an unwed mother. I’m not pregnant.” Lemon feels her lips moving as she chants. She can’t stand people who mumble or move their lips when they read, so she bites her lips, forcing them still. The smile she turns to the residents of Bluebell as she confesses the crime of shoplifting to save Lavon’s chance to be mayor feels like broken glass. She pushes the sharp smile wider and surreptitiously touches her mouth. She checks her fingers with a glance and is surprised to see that there’s no blood. She keeps chanting in her head that she’s not pregnant and really, as long as that is true, everything else will eventually work itself out. 

It has to; there is no other option.

She sees Zoe in one of her ridiculous New York outfits -- seriously, do all Yankees think formal shorts are a wardrobe basic -- throw her head back and laugh at something Wade says. AnnaBeth smiles at Lavon and Lavon smiles back. Ruby Jeffries circles around them all with a calculating expression on her beautiful face. Lemon’s surrounded by people who point out her inadequacies by merely existing. Lemon’s heart feels heavy and leaden and her face is burning with embarrassment, but she’s not pregnant. She has a job she thinks she could be good at, a place to live. And an emergency dose of Valium in her pocket. 

She’s going to be fine. She’s going to be perfectly fine if she has to hold herself together with duct tape and crazy glue; Lemon Breeland will be _fine_.

God, now she’s addressing herself in the third person like Lavon. Maybe it’s contagious?

* * *

The Sunday afternoon before the election is as perfect an afternoon as one can find in Alabama in November. It’s balmy and sunny and perfect. Lemon rolls the windows down and sings out loud as she drives to Lavon’s – she’s got an idea for how to get the Owl Club’s votes but she’ll need Lavon’s participation to do it. When she turns into the long road to the house, Burt Reynolds is blocking the driveway, sunning himself. Lemon rolls to a stop right in front of him, tires just shy of touching the gator. Burt’s tail swishes from side to side. Lemon sings the chorus loudly, tossing her head from side to side 

_Never gonna get it, never gonna get it  
Never gonna get it whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa_

Burt slithers his way across the drive on the last whoa and Lemon can’t help but laugh as she continues on her way. She cranks En Vogue up even louder, covering up the sounds that are filtering out of the house. Lemon lets herself in and finds Lavon, Wade, and Zoe dressed for the game. They’re wearing Steelers gear – all 59 Lavon Hayes, drinking beer, and snacking from an elaborate set up of all of Lavon’s favorite football food. 

If she hadn’t been witness to this kind of extravagance before, Lemon would assume Lavon was throwing a party for ten or more. There are enough buffalo shrimp and wings to feed an army, at least three pizza boxes she can see, chips, nachos, and more that Lemon can’t see from where she’s standing in the kitchen. Their attention is on the game, so Lemon checks the score and yes, the Steelers are down (they always seem to be down since Lavon retired) but they have the ball in the red zone, second and fifteen. Not the best time to interrupt a football fan. So she leans against the bar and watches the three of them. 

They’re all on the edges of their seats on the large over-stuffed couch. Lavon and Wade on the end, with Zoe in the middle. The screen shows a glimpse of Coach Tomlin talking into his headset and Lavon’s starts yelling, “shuffle pass!”

Wade throws a napkin at Lavon. “No way. Quarterback sneak.”

Then Zoe sucks her fingers clean and drops a licked bare drumstick onto her plate. “You’re both wrong. Everybody knows the Steelers like to do last minute gadget plays. Clearly they’re going to fake a field goal attempt and hand it off for the run.”

Wade and Lavon yelp and bombard Zoe with handfuls of popcorn. She smiles at them and picks up a chicken wing. “Wait and see.” Lemon can barely take her eyes off of Zoe as she starts delicately nibbling the meat off the bone. Her tongue darts out, licking up the bit of sauce at the corner of her mouth. Lemon can’t help but imagine what that tongue would feel like darting somewhere on Lemon. The crowd on the television cheers and Zoe pumps a fist into the air while Lavon and Wade high-five over Zoe’s head. 

“Called it called it! I get the six and the bet.” 

“Lucky guess.” 

“Yeah, you wish.” Zoe drops the wing and starts licking her fingers clean one at a time. Lemon is afraid to take her eyes off of Zoe’s mouth on the chance that she misses a peek of that nimble tongue. “You just can’t stand that I don’t need you to explain the game to me.” 

Wade’s attention leaves the game and focuses in on Zoe sucking her pointer finger into her mouth. “Is that for my benefit?” Wade leans in like he’s going to kiss Zoe. Lemon’s heart starts to pound when Zoe starts leaning in toward Wade. 

Lemon’s had enough of other people being kissed in front of her.

“Lavon Hayes! You cannot eat like this in the week leading up to the election!” She strides into the living room and gathers up the pizza and the un-opened bags of chips. “It will give you an ulcer.”

“Now Lemon-”

“Don’t you now Lemon me, Lavon -”

“YES!” Zoe and Wade shout. “We won!”

A dozen rounds of high-fives and back slapping later, they make room on the couch for Lemon and switch to the Saints/Falcons game. Wade opens everyone a beer. Lemon takes it with a smile and a thank you -- she even manages to refrain from asking for a glass. Then Lavon hands her a wing. Zoe passes her a napkin before she can ask for it. Lemon doesn’t particularly care for football one way or another – unless it’s Auburn against Alabama and then she’s contractually obligated as a Tiger to care with every ounce of her being for the length of that game – but the feeling of contentment that spreads through her is the best she’s felt since she found out about her mom. Zoe grabs hold of Wade and Lemon both when a player gets hauled out of the game on a stretcher. Lemon covers Zoe’s hand with her own and squeezes. 

Lemon keeps her composure and dignity (barely) by not trying to kiss Zoe in front of their friends. Lemon catches Zoe watching her a dozen times or more during the game. She gives Zoe her softest and best smile each time and tries to ignore the butterflies that are dancing in her tummy.

The Saints beat the Falcons. By the time the Cowboys/Giants late game comes on, Lemon has eaten more junk food than she has the past ten years and she’s mostly drunk. Drunk enough that she needs to lay her head down. She falls asleep sometime after half time with her head on Zoe’s lap, Zoe’s small delicate fingers playing in her hair. 

“Wake up, sleepy heads.” Lemon blinks her eyes open and finds Lavon standing over her. 

“What?” Lemon looks around and starts to sit up. The room starts spinning a little so she closes her eyes and lies down again.

“Nuh-uh. Come on, Lemon, y’all are both too old to sleep like that, you’ll regret it in the morning.”

That’s when Lemon realizes she’s been sleeping on Zoe and that Zoe has returned the favor. “Too drunk to drive.” Lemon says into Zoe’s lap.

“I know, that’s why Mayor Lavon Hayes is going to drive both your drunk asses to Zoe’s. Y’all can sleep it off and not have to worry about what people would say.”

“What people would say what?” Zoe croaks.

“It’s election week, I don’t want people saying Mayor Lavon Hayes had a group sex party, and you know that’s what people would say if they saw your car in my driveway in the morning."

“Don’t wanna.”

“Me neither.”

“Wade?” Lavon scoops Lemon up off the couch. “Help a brother out.”

“My pleasure.”

Then Lavon is carrying her through the house and into the car while Wade does the same with Zoe. The drive to Zoe’s is short and bumpy. “Do I need to carry y’all in?”

“I think we’ve got it handled, Lavon, thanks. Come on, Lemon, we can have a sleep over and pretend like we’re friends.”

“Thanks, Lavon.” Lemon smiles at him and does her best not to look too eager at the prospect of spending the night with Zoe.

* * *

Lemon wakes up in the morning with a mouth that tastes like a brewery and an arm wrapped around her waist. There is no hairy chest pressed against her shoulders or hairy legs entwined with hers. It is breasts she’s feeling against her shoulders, and bare legs as smooth as her own entangled with hers. She cracks her eyes open just a bit and takes in her surroundings. Ugly, old, and partially renovated, with breasts and smooth legs. 

She’s at Zoe’s. Those are Zoe’s legs sliding against hers and that’s Zoe’s hair that’s tickling the back of her neck. Lemon has been to more sleepovers and slumber parties than she can care to recall but this is the first time she’s ever woken up with one of her silly little crushes wrapped around her. Her heart starts to race. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, counting all the way to ten before she slowly lets it out. She does it again. And again, but her heart is still racing.

“That’s it, deep breaths, you’re doing great, you’re going to be fine, just keep breathing Lemon.”

Lemon comes back to herself to find Zoe wide awake and apparently easing her through a panic attack. Again. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not a big deal. Keep breathing.”

Lemon squeezes her eyes shut and does her best to breathe with Zoe. It feels like a lifetime before her breaths are full and deep and her heart has stopped trying to beat out of her chest. When she opens her eyes again she finds herself cradled in Zoe’s arms. One hand splayed between her shoulders and the other stroking her hair in long, even strokes. Pale morning light filters in through the partially closed plantation blinds. It’s one of the most awkward post-drinking binges she’s ever had. Even if she doesn’t have a hangover and she’s fully aware that she’s wearing all of her clothes. Waking up to a panic attack in the arms of her arch-rival-slash-closeted-friend-slash-lesbian-crush is not Lemon’s best moment. But Zoe’s embrace is comfortable and she’s always gotten sleepy when people played with her hair. Lemon drifts to sleep again.

The next time she wakes up the room is filled with light. Zoe’s head is tucked under her chin and Lemon’s breathing is slow and deep, not a panic attack in sight. Her mouth still tastes like a brewery died in there, but all things considered, it’s an acceptable way to start the day. She squeezes Zoe a little and is rewarded with Zoe wiggling even closer to her. 

“This is nice.” Zoe sounds hoarse and half asleep. Lemon drops a kiss onto Zoe’s hair and hums in agreement. “Really nice; you’re awfully comfortable.” Zoe shifts around and rolls over onto her side facing Lemon. Lemon focuses her gaze squarely between Zoe’s eyes; the moment is too full for words and really, she doesn’t know what to say. “Lemon, about George-”

“Do not start talking to me about George Tucker first thing in the morning unless you want me to be an utter bitch for the rest of the day.” Lemon closes her eyes and takes a couple calming breaths. 

“Okay. About Wade, we’re-”

Lemon sits up and puts her hands over her ears. “I do not want to hear about you and _anyone_ , Zoe Hart.” Zoe reaches out and pulls Lemon’s hands away from her ears, Lemon is sure it’s only her imagination, but Zoe’s touch feels hot enough to scald.

“It’s about me, Lemon, not them.” Zoe squeezes Lemon’s wrists. “I’m not dating George and I had some really incredible but ill-advised sex with Wade.” Lemon tries to yank her hands away from Zoe, but Zoe is _strong_ \- Lemon can practically feel her wrists bruising. “Lemon, I’m not going to be anyone’s rebound. And that includes you. Now I may be way off-base here, but I don’t think so. I don’t think George was the only one with feelings for me- ” Lemon tries to interrupt, but Zoe talks right over her. “Even if they were feelings of dislike, or contempt or, or, I don’t know, disapproving fashion sense.” Zoe’s fingers intertwine with Lemon’s. “Take some time, Lemon, let yourself heal. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if,” Lemon takes a shuddery breath. “What if someone beats me to it?”

“You can’t live a life of what ifs.”

“What if, what if I’m wrong and it’s nothing and we waited and- ”

Zoe interrupts her with a kiss. Nothing fancy, just a press of mouth to mouth. Even to feel the exquisitely soft pillow of Zoe’s lower lip and the smile she kisses to Lemon’s mouth was more than Lemon ever thought she’d have. All worry of morning breath flies out the window when they each reach out to the other, cupping the other’s jaw slowly, parting lips just enough to slide that last bit closer to each other. It feels like it lasts forever, Lemon’s whole body tingles and cries out, ‘yes, yes, this is what I want!’ She feels perfectly calm and exhilarated. They break the kiss off and lean their foreheads together. “You’re not wrong.”

Lemon feels her eyes fill with tears and blinks them away. She takes a breath and squares her shoulders then lifts her chin high. “You’ll find, Dr. Zoe Hart, that I am rarely wrong. Now, I’m going drag myself out of your amazingly comfortable bed, walk to my car, and go home. I’m going to pick up the pieces of my life.” Lemon throws back the covers and climbs out of bed. “I’m going to be the woman I was always meant to be, and maybe, after that, I’ll find myself a nice doctor to date. I hear they’re way better than lawyers, though the hours are worse.”

“You do that, Lemon.”

“You just wait and see, Zoe.”


End file.
